Spirit’s End loem-5

by Rachel Aaron

  “I don’t care,” Nico said, digging her claws into the stone. “I will fight you.”

  “I’m sure you will,” the demon sneered. “You always were a bit stupid that way.” He shook his head, torn neck sliding grotesquely. “What I don’t understand is why you give all that endless, idiot energy fighting for a world that will turn on you the first chance it gets. Even you can’t be foolish enough to still believe you’re human.”

  “I am myself,” Nico snapped.

  “Well, good for you,” the demon snapped back. “But let’s play a game, shall we? Let’s say you win. Let’s say I vanish, the shell is mended, the demons are pushed back, and everything comes up daffodils for you and your swordsman. What happens then?”

  Before Nico could answer, the demon’s mouth opened in an enormous grin. “I’ll tell you,” he crooned, reaching down to caress the Dead Mountain’s slope. “You’ll end up here, right where I was. Because no matter how well you may think you control yourself, you’re not a spirit of creation anymore. You’re like me, like all of us. You’ll never die, even if you long to. You’ll never be able to rest, never be able to drop your guard. I’m impressed you’ve been able to keep your hunger at bay this long, but how much longer can you do it, Nico? A century? A millennia?”

  The demon shook its head. “No one’s will holds forever, my child. The hunger will win in the end, and then you’ll be everything they already think you are—a monster, a predator, a devourer of spirits. Something to be stomped on and pinned at all costs.”

  As he finished, Nico realized with horror that his throat was nearly mended. Her eyes widened. How? They were on the Dead Mountain. There should be nothing to eat. Then she saw that one of his long legs was arched backward, his biggest claw just touching the valley beyond the Dead Mountain’s border. Where it touched, the once-snowy valley was now as black and dry as the Dead Mountain’s own slopes.

  The sight of it made her snarl, and she pulled herself to her full height, her broken wing hanging painfully from her shoulder. Nico ignored it. She stood on the mountain’s peak, glaring down at the demon. In her mind, Nivel’s warning was playing over and over. Don’t listen. He always lies, don’t listen. But he wasn’t lying, not this time, though Nico wished he were. A lie would be nicer than this ugly truth. But ugly as it was, hateful as it was, the truth was there, hanging between them, and she could not ignore it. Though she no longer needed air, Nico took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the sky, steeling herself to see the world break.

  The breath caught in her throat. Above them, three of the six hands had vanished. For a second, she felt nothing but panic. If they were gone, what more would come through? But even as the thought slid through her like an icy spike, a flash of white blazed in the sky. For a moment, the whole, battered arc was illuminated, and then, with a demon’s jagged scream, one of the three remaining hands began to fall, dissolving to dust before it could hit the ground.

  The second flash came a moment later, slicing the next arm through. She saw it better this time—a curved white blade biting through the darkness beyond the sphere, singing with pure, bloody joy as it sliced the demon flesh. By the time the final arm was cut, the shell itself was shaking, and the dome of the sky began to groan. Overhead, the cracks flashed and ground against one another, the shattered sections popping back into place like puzzle pieces.

  As the edges came together, they began to melt into one another, the cracks fraying before weaving back together as though they’d never broken. It was beautiful to watch, more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. So beautiful that Nico couldn’t tear her eyes away from the world as it put itself back together, and that was her fatal mistake.

  She felt the Demon of the Dead Mountain right before his claws closed on her throat. She roared and began to fight his grip, but he loomed over her, his strength infinite.

  “You never could learn to pay attention to your surroundings, darling daughter,” the demon purred in her ear, his jagged teeth tearing the flesh on the side of her head. “Looks like your thief won his gambit. They’re repairing the shell as we speak. So it’s time for you to go.”

  Nico’s feet kicked in the air as he lifted her. Holding her at arm’s length, the demon turned and raised his other arm, the one she had injured, and dragged his curved, black claws across the air. For a second, nothing happened, and then, with a horrible, unnatural ripping, the veil began to tear.

  “The Weaver is too busy to stop a little hole like this,” the demon told her, his jagged teeth blacker than midnight in the pure white light that spilled through the hole in the air. “It pains me to treat you this way, my child, but if you won’t stand with me, then you leave me no choice. After all”—the black grin widened—“I can’t kill you.”

  Nico lashed at him with her claws, but his long arms held her well out of reach. With a sickening lurch, the demon hopped up through the sundered veil, taking her into a world of blinding white. The moment they were inside, the demon raised her up and slammed her against a wall she hadn’t even seen.

  The impact sent an explosion of pain through her body, and Nico screamed as the wall cracked behind her, bowing out with the force of the demon’s blow. When he pulled her back, her body was too limp to fight him, too stunned even to struggle as he dug his claws into the white floor and slammed her a second time. This time, the wall shattered.

  Nico’s body shrank as freezing cold, colder even than the world inside the shadows, surrounded her. The demon had broken the shell with her body. Even as Nico realized what had happened, she felt the demon’s claws leave her throat, and then she began to fall.

  She couldn’t even flap her wings anymore. The hole in the shell shrank above her, the light growing farther and dimmer, leaving only endless, hungry blackness. For one long breath, Nico fell into the dark, and then, with a deafening cry, the hands grabbed her.

  They wrapped around her body, large and small, clawed and spindly, all pulling her into the dark. Black mouths bit down on her flesh only to roar in impotent fury when they realized she was not food. She was like them.

  After that, they thrust her aside, trampling her as they scrambled madly for the hole the demon had punched in the shell of the world with her body. Far, far overhead, Nico could still see the outline of the demon against the light, his grotesque face split in an enormous smile. And with that, rage took over where strength could not.

  With a roar that made the hands on her snatch away, Nico surged forward. She could not let it end like this, could not let him win. She tore through the other demons, ripping them to shreds as she clawed her way up. Starving and mad, they barely noticed, moving their limbs out of her way only when she took a piece off. Ahead of her, the hole in the shell was closing, cutting off the light. Nico screamed and climbed faster, clawing her way up the endless demons until, at last, her hand closed on the hole’s jagged edge.

  The Demon of the Dead Mountain’s claws were on her at once, prying her grip free. Nico slammed her other hand up in answer, her claws biting deep into the Demon of the Dead Mountain’s arm. As he screamed in pain, Nico yanked herself forward, tearing her other hand off the shell’s edge only to plant it in the demon’s chest. Her claws cut through the shiny, protective carapace and dug into his core, locking in place. At the same time, she brought her head forward, jaws flung wide as she latched herself onto his shoulder.

  “You’re right,” she hissed against his flesh while he flailed beneath her, screaming in pain. “There’s no place for our kind here.” And with that, she pushed off the shell, using her weight as an anchor to drag them both into the dark.

  The demon’s roar rattled her teeth, but Nico didn’t let go. As he locked his limbs against the closing shell, she clung to him like a lead weight. If they had been inside the shell, it never would have worked. He was too large now, and she too small. But here, on the edge, things were different. Nico’s body buffeted as the demon hands shot past her, scrambling for purchase on the shell’s broken
edge. They grabbed the Demon of the Dead Mountain as well, pulling him down in their rush to clear the hole and get inside, using his bulk as leverage to pull themselves up.

  The demon screamed again, and this time there was real fear in his roar. He tore at Nico with his claws, digging into the shell with his feet as he tried to free himself. But the broken shell was too fragile to hold him, the thousands of hands too much even for his strength. Even so, he might have worked himself free had Nico not been latched to him, her weight an anchor on his own, dragging him inch by painful inch into the dark. When he finally toppled, Nico went with him, her claws and teeth buried in his flesh as the hands dragged them both into the dark.

  It was a good end, she thought as they started to fall. Even if she lived forever out here in the dark, she was still herself, and she had used the last of her strength to take the Demon of the Dead Mountain with her. For a creature who could no longer die, she’d earned herself a death to be proud of. A warrior’s death. She smiled against the Demon of the Dead Mountain’s flesh, still straining under her teeth. She only wished Josef could have seen it.

  But even as she thought his name, a shadow appeared against the white light of the closing hole. It was a small shadow, man-sized, and Nico slumped in relief. Good, the Weaver was here to seal the breach. But the figure didn’t try to close the hole. Instead, he leaned out, one arm holding onto something behind him, the other reaching into the dark. And as he reached, he screamed.

  “Nico!”

  Josef cursed and slammed his sword into the strange white floor. It cracked under the Heart’s blunt point like an eggshell, but the blade held. Grabbing the hilt as his anchor, Josef leaned out beyond the edge of the world. Hands clawed at him, but he beat them away, slamming them against the sharp cracks of the shell without looking. Even as he fought, his eyes never left the spot where he had seen Nico vanish.

  His chest burned as he reached out. He’d barely let the gash close before going after Nico, barely made it through the hole the demon had ripped in the veil. He’d pulled himself on his elbows the last few feet even after he saw both demons tumble out of the shell into the dark, even when he knew it was too late.

  It didn’t matter. Josef couldn’t stop. The idea of losing her now, after everything they’d gone through, after all they’d fought, was simply unacceptable. He wouldn’t give up, and he wouldn’t let her go. He would stand here reaching into the freezing dark until the healing shell took his arm off if there was so much as a chance that her fingers would close on his.

  Josef leaned out farther still, looking frantically through the dark for a pair of golden eyes, but there was nothing outside except blackness and hungry hands. “Nico!” he screamed again, cringing in pain as his wounded lungs expanded.

  As the name left him, Josef couldn’t shake the horrid, creeping feeling that, even if she could hear him, Nico wouldn’t answer. He’d seen her shoving her claws into the demon when he’d climbed in. She’d dragged the creature into the dark with her on purpose, and now he may have lost her forever.

  Josef swore loudly. Whatever form she took, Nico was Nico. Demon, human, or anything in between, she would sacrifice anything to keep him and Eli safe. It drove him crazy. She didn’t seem to understand that she had value, too, that she was worth saving.

  “Dammit, Nico!” he roared into the dark. “I will not let you go like this! I will chase you out of this hole if you don’t come back!”

  His words vanished into the blackness, eaten like everything else. Josef didn’t care. “You told me you wanted to live!” he screamed. “The demon ate your childhood. He ate everything you had. Don’t give him this, too! Don’t let him take you from me!”

  He threw himself forward until his fingertips on the Heart’s pommel were the only things anchoring him to the world. His legs were braced on the closing edge of the shell, his hand thrust out so far his joints were screaming. Josef didn’t care. He pushed out farther, the scream wrenching out of him. “Take my hand!”

  The demons screamed back at him, black claws scrambling to eat him. Josef thrust them away with his will and stayed perfectly still, an iron statue, waiting. The light was fading quickly now as the shell closed behind him. Soon, the healing wound would be too small for him to retreat, but Josef didn’t look back. He stood, hand grasping, aching lungs bellowing in his chest.

  “Nico!”

  And then, without warning, he saw something. It was tiny in the infinite dark, little more than a pale flash, but it caught his eyes like a spark. He locked onto it, bashing the mad demons out of his way until he saw it flash again. It was a finger. One white finger, reaching out.

  Josef lurched into the dark, and his straining hand brushed soft, human flesh. The moment the white finger touched his, he hooked the joint with his own and yanked back. The white finger jerked forward, revealing a white hand.

  Josef reached out again, grabbing the tiny palm with his larger grip. Holding his sword with his anchoring hand, he pulled with every ounce of the Heart’s monstrous strength, and together, inch by inch, they dragged her out of the dark.

  The hand was followed by a white arm, and then the crown of her head came into view, her short, black hair falling over her face. Next came her shoulders, her thin white chest, her hips, her legs.

  Nico emerged with painful slowness, as though they were pulling her out of tar, but as Josef braced his legs and leaned back, pulling with all his weight, Nico’s head lifted and her yellow eyes locked onto his. She was crying, screaming, and though the demons ate her words, he could see them on her lips. She wanted to live. She wanted to live with him.

  With a final roar, Josef yanked her free, dragging her against his chest and falling backward just as the shell closed. The wound slammed shut, slicing through the grasping hands that had tried to follow them. As the severed limbs crumbled to ash, Josef slammed onto his back, holding Nico against him with one hand and the Heart with the other as his chest thundered. He almost didn’t believe they’d made it until he felt Nico grab him and bury her head in his side.

  “I’m sorry.” She sobbed. “I shouldn’t have come back. I don’t belong here. I’m a—”

  “I don’t care,” Josef said, cutting her off before she could finish. He slid his hand up her back to grab her head, forcing her to look at him. “You. Are. Nico,” he said, grinding each word between his teeth. “That’s the only thing that matters.”

  Nico’s golden eyes widened. “But I—”

  “If there’s a problem, we’ll figure it out,” Josef said. “Or make Eli figure it out. That’s what we keep him around for.”

  Nico laughed at that, a tearful snort as she ducked her head against him. Satisfied, Josef lay back and focused on overcoming the enormous pain that he’d been putting off. As he blacked out, he felt Nico’s hands on his face.

  “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.

  “We save each other,” he said. “That’s why we’re here.”

  He felt a soft brush on his forehead. Her lips, he realized. That thought made him grin wide as he slid into blissful unconsciousness, his fingers tangled in Nico’s short, soft hair.

  Eli woke to the most horrible pain he’d ever experienced, which was a joy in and of itself. He hadn’t expected to wake up at all. After all, the Shepherdess had stabbed him, twice. He should be dead, expected to be. Death was the reward you got for playing the hero, and he’d been frightfully heroic there toward the end. That’s why the good thieves were never heroes. Hard to spend your ill-gotten gains when you were dead.

  “I think he’s waking up.”

  He went still. It was Miranda’s voice, and it was close, as though she were sitting beside him. A great feeling of relief crushed into his chest, and Eli realized he’d half believed that the only reason he was alive was because Benehime had won and somehow saved him for worse punishment. But Benehime would never let Miranda near him.

  Slowly, hopefully, Eli cracked his eyes. Miranda’s face filled his vision. She
was hovering over him, and he felt a pressure on his chest as she shook him gently. “I knew it,” she said, her pretty face pulling into the sneer he recognized as well as his own reflection. “Stop faking and get up, you degenerate.”

  “Well hello to you, too,” Eli croaked, opening his eyes all the way.

  He was lying on his back in the white nothing of the Between. Miranda was sitting beside him, fiddling with the gems in the Rector’s mantle as she glared in his direction. That much wasn’t surprising. What was, was that they weren’t alone. The Weaver sat on his other side, his old face pulled in a kindly smile as he peered down at Eli.

  Welcome back to the living, Eliton.

  “Don’t call me that,” Eli muttered, sitting up.

  As the wave of nausea hit him, Eli realized this was a terrible idea and promptly lay back down.

  You should take it easy, the Weaver said. I’ve repaired most of the damage, but you were on the edge of death for almost an hour while I repaired the shell. Some trauma was sadly unavoidable. Best to stay still.

  “Right,” Eli said, swallowing. “Good plan.”

  Rather than risk lifting his head again, Eli slid his fingers up his chest to assess the damage. After the way Benehime had stabbed him, he expected to find gaping holes, or at least a bloody mess, but his shirt was cleaner than it had been in days, and his skin was smooth and painless to the touch. He smiled. Having a Power to play surgeon certainly had its benefits.

  As he moved his fingers down to prod the place where the second stab had hit his abdomen, Eli brushed a rough spot on his skin and jumped off the floor.

  “Eli!” Miranda shouted, slapping him back down. “What part of ‘lie still’ don’t you understand?”

  Eli didn’t answer; he was too busy undoing the buttons of his shirt. As he tore it open, he nearly cried in relief. There, spanning the center of his chest, was Karon’s burn. The moment he saw it, he felt Karon turn deep in his mind, settling himself sleepily below Eli’s conscious.